


Until the Last Petal Falls

by Fictionalcasualties



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mature because of language, you know the mutual pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-11 03:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10454391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionalcasualties/pseuds/Fictionalcasualties
Summary: A curse is set upon Prince Jack Zimmermann's castle when he refuses to show hospitality towards an enchantress. He has to learn to trust and love someone before the last petal falls, or he's stuck as a beast forever and all his friends remain objects.Then Eric Bittle arrives at the palace to take the place of his kidnapped mother, and finally there's one ounce of hope left for the Samwell crew to break the curse.or the Beauty and The Beast AU no one asked for





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so here is what I got done last night and I tried to edit it as best I can! 
> 
> ANYWAY I hope you enjoy and there is more coming, this is just what I managed to write until I got exhausted and went to bed (I’m lame I know)
> 
> So like disclaimer: three PAST character deaths. I also changed up the prologue a little to fit the story. I’m taking a light spin on it, not too many drastic changes (if you count the reason Jack was turned into a beast a drastic change idk)

_Once upon a time in a faraway land, a prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish and unkind._

“Yo, Jack-O!” Bartholomew Knight, strides up to his best friend, admiring the party in front of them. “Wicked party man.”

Jack clears his throat as a few people from his court glance over with judgmental expressions.

“Right.  _Prince_  Jack-O.” His best friend bristles a little, slightly annoyed by Jack’s dismissive behavior. 

“Where did Kent go?” Jack can’t help but ask, because his other closest friend was nowhere to be seen upon the lively dancing of the party. Usually he’s in the middle of it all.

“Don’t know, Brah. Probably fucked off somewhere–”

Jack shoots him another glare for the language, causing ‘Shitty’ (he liked to call himself just to get on Jack’s nerves) to sigh dramatically.

“Can you be a little less vulgar?” Jack practically bites the words out, sounding extremely unkind. “Why are you with me anyway? Usually you’re following Larissa around right about now.”

“Never mind. Thought you’d want my company, but I guess I’m an embarrassment. Now I know why Kenny dearest isn’t around. I wouldn’t be surprised if he left the palace again.” 

The words struck a chord, and Jack watched helplessly as his friend left his side. 

_But then, one winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold._

“Hey yo, your highness?” Adam Birkholz, one of the guards approached him with his other pair in tow, Justin Oluransi. 

“–there’s someone at the door. She’s kinda sketch, but we don’t want to turn away a guest.” Justin says. 

“I don’t remember inviting any outsiders.” Jack grunts, but he still follows them and weaves himself through the party. Once the three get to the door, a crouched figure with horrible posture shakes from the cold in a dark cloak covering most of their body. He feels the slightest bit of sympathy, but ever since his parents were assassinated, he trusted absolutely no one, and probably never will again.

“Who are you?” Jack demands, placing himself safely behind his two guards.

An old and scratchy voice responds. “Georgia Martin, no one special. I’m just looking for shelter from the cold. It’s quite a storm out there.” 

When Jack doesn’t respond, she clears her throat and reaches down to pull something out of her cloak. Jack stumbles back in fear, and his two guards immediately block him from view. 

“Relax, Jack Zimmermann,” – _she can’t just address me informally like that_ – “It is only a rose. A peace offering and a gift, in exchange for your hospitality.”

_Repulsed by her haggard and sketchy appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances. For beauty is found within, and not every unfamiliar mundane is evil._

“No way am I letting you stay here.” Jack snarls at the woman, setting himself in front of his guards in a fit of anger. “A stranger can’t just waltz in here. This is a palace, not an inn.”

“I will not harm you.” She reassures him. “You have my word. Give me a chance?”

“Only fools allow complete strangers into their home.” Jack says sternly, still a little bit shaken.

“Like your parents?” 

His blood runs cold and his hands begin to shake in the beginnings of a panic attack. “Get out.” He snaps, and his tone holds heavy malice that was sharp enough to cut anyone. 

_And when he dismissed her again, the old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late. For she had seen there was no trust or kindness in his heart._

“Wrong answer, Prince Zimmermann.” Her appearance quickly changes in a flurry of gold light, changing her appearance faster than Jack can process. The gold dissipates, revealing a kind and beautiful face that couldn’t possibly be ‘mundane’. Jack suddenly feels the cold twinge of regret as the woman gives him a soft smile. A smile that reminded him a little of his mother, and he felt his heart constrict in sadness. 

“Whoa– what the hell are you?” Adam mutters with a look of blatant surprise, while Justin’s mouth is glued shut in silent terror. 

Then Jack feels something warm begin to flood over his body, which he assumes is the feeling of magic. There’s no other explanation.

“Stop it.” Jack glances behind him at his frenzied party guests trying to escape. “I’m sorry. You can stay one night. Just stop whatever you’re doing–”

Those were the last words Jack spoke before he felt his body change, causing slight pain deep in his bones. The heartbreaking shouts from his guests and his closest friends fill his ears, which was the most painful of all.

“Jack!” He hears Kent’s voice sound in the background noise, horrified and frightened. “Goddammit, what have  _you done?”_

_And his punishment: she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful curse on the castle and all who lived there. Their families would not remember their existence until the curse was broken._

Like the snap of someone’s finger, everything went silent as objects clattered to the floor and his body burned with a raw sensation. 

He glanced in a nearby mirror and reeled backward from what he saw. That woman– that  _witch_ – had turned him into some kind of monster. 

_Ashamed of his monstrous form, he concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first year if he could learn to love and trust another and earn their love and trust in return._

“Until you can learn to fully love another and trust them with your love, you will stay like this.” The enchantress’s voice rang loud and clear, and quite frankly terrifying in the sudden, eerie silence.

_And when the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years past, he fell into despair and lost all hope._

“This is for your own good, Jack.”

_For who could ever learn to love a beast._

 


	2. Provincial Life

“Mama,” Eric slips on his shoes and grabs his bag, ready to slip out the door. “I’ll be right back. I have to grab some eggs from downtown.”

Eric Bittle lived in a small town, one that wasn’t too keen on accepting the fact he liked to bake rather than take the “manly” job in his family. His mother is a very talented baker, so why not take after her? It was only him and his mother, which is why the townspeople were more critical. His father died when he was just a baby. His mom never talked about it, because it was still too hard. All he knows is that he was named after his father, and that his mother missed him every single day. 

He always hears what the town says about him, because it still is a very small town and word travels fast. He’s weird. He’s a puzzle that can’t be solved. He’s unconventional, spending all his hours in the kitchen. However, one thing out of all the nonsense is true; He’s gay. And you’re goddamn right he is. It’s no secret, because he doesn’t hide it anymore.

His Mama is always supportive, and that’s all he really cared about anyway. Everyone else is background noise, because Eric Bittle knows there’s something else out there other than this poor provincial town. He has other plans, so none of the whispering and rumors really matter.

“Mama?” He shouts louder so she can hear him this time. “I’m getting more eggs.” He repeats.

She pops her head out from their small kitchen, flower spread across her cheek. “We’re out already?” 

“You made that emergency wedding cake for the Williams family, remember?” 

“Oh! Right! You’re such a smart boy. Maybe we should start raising chickens for our own eggs.” 

“Mama, we would have nowhere to put them. You refuse to give up the horse.”

“Señor Bun is family, Eric Richard Bittle.” His mother scolds. “And you named him in the first place, so don’t even give me that look. We need him anyway so I can travel.” She gives him a warm smile as a goodbye before retreating to the kitchen. 

Eric greets all his favorite people as he makes his way through the busy town. It’s always hectic this early in the morning. 

When he finally makes it to the market, Alexei (the kind, Russian food vender) smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Eric! Best customer! I swear you are here yesterday.” 

“I was. We ran out of eggs." Eric shrugs with a sheepish smile, already pulling out his money. 

“You keep me in business, so I make you deal.” He hands Bitty the eggs in a small basket, a look of appreciation on his face. “I want your famous pies. The last one you made me last one hour." 

“You got it.” Eric smiles, giving him a small salute. “I’ll hand it to you personally the next time I’m here… Which will most likely be tomorrow.”

“Very appreciated." Alexei winks, then trails off. "I forget something. I don't remember." He frowns, looking distressed. 

"I hope it comes to you soon." Eric smiles before and says goodbye before he makes his way back home. This might actually be the first morning he doesn’t run into–

“Eric! My future husband. My love and joy.” The familiarity sends a shiver of irritation up his spine.

“Hello, Chad.” Eric sighs, turning around to see Chad, the most beloved, wet dream of the entire town.

He saunters over with his goon in tow, scurrying behind him as Chad makes his way up to Eric with terrifying speed.

“I was thinking,” Chad throws an arm around him, causing Eric to flinch in surprise. “You. Me. Alone out on the hill overlooking that sketchy ass patch of dark clouds that never disappears out yonder that no one questions.” 

“I’ll have to pass on that. Again. For the thousandth time you’ve offered.” Eric slides out from under his arm, but doesn’t make a move to walk back home because Chad will just follow him like always. “You do realize I’m a man? I’m sure the three women that always appear when you’re around would love to be with you.” He says the last part with sincerity. 

“Of course I know you’re a man.” Chad grins, completely ignoring the last half of Eric’s reply. “Why would I limit myself to one gender?  _Psh_. Ridiculous! We’ve talked about this before. Besides, I want to marry the hottest piece of ass in this town. And that, Eric Bittle, is you.”

“Chad.” Eric runs a hand over his face, and surely people are watching their exchange by now. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not marrying you.”

“This is true love, Eric Bittle.” Chad pouts his lips, like he’s a begging puppy.

“Um, I’m pretty sure this is harassment–”

“–anyway.” Chad cuts him off before he can finish. “I’m rich and hot. What’s not to love?” 

Eric has given up at this point, so he decides to just ask, “Chad, how do you manage to track me down every day, anyway?” 

“Oh, I usually wait up on the hill right by your house every morning and follow you around until I find the perfect opportunity to court you.”

Eric blinks, slightly terrified by the admission. “Chad, that’s creepy.”

“It’s romantic.” He defends with a slight glare. 

“I’m going home. See you tomorrow.” Eric mutters before quickly escaping. 

“Bye babe!” Chad calls after him. His daily run-ins with Chad are his least favorite thing about this town.

Some days are harder than others. Like when people so obviously give judgmental looks when he’s buying more baking supplies, or he’s handing out his pies for free to families that can’t quite afford dessert. ‘The least he can do is help provide for his mother. Poor thing, lost her husband at such a young age.’ That’s what most of them say, at least. Like his mother isn’t more than capable of holding her own. It’s not like she raised a child and kept a roof over their heads for nearly nineteen years. 

When Eric returns home, he hears his mother humming in the kitchen. She hasn’t left since he went out to buy more eggs. 

“Hi Mama.” Eric kisses her cheek before placing the small basket beside her. He glances at the cookies already cooling off. “How did you manage to make those without any eggs?”

“I’m innovative.” She grins, looking extremely excited. “I think I just discovered a loophole so we don’t have to use eggs all the time. What a money saver! Maybe I can buy you new skates by winter, since your last pair fell apart.” 

“When are you leaving?” Eric asks, still nervous about her departure. His Mama makes more money that way, leaving town to sell her baked goods in different towns. He always fears that one day she simply won’t return home, and Eric will be all alone. 

“Oh Dicky, not until the morning.” She reaches over and cups his cheeks, like she does when she senses him worry. “Let’s just get your pies done for now and not think about it.”

“Okay.” Eric says softly as she releases his cheeks and begins pulling the supplies they need out of cabinets like it’s second nature.

The next morning he helps his mother load everything into the carriage, and feeds Señor Bun before his long journey.

As his mother hops onto the horse, she gives Eric one last encouraging smile. “I’ll be back before you know it, honey. What do you want me to bring back?”

“Oh. Uh.” Eric frowns, because his mother doesn’t have to get him anything. However, his mother does it for his comfort. This way, she has to come back to him. No matter what, because a promise is a promise. “Just get me anythin’ really. Whatever you think looks pretty.” He grins as his mother rolls her eyes.

“Hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

“I always do.” Eric laughs a little, then reaches up to squeeze her hand one last time. “Be safe, Mama.” 

Then she’s off, and he watches her disappear from view.

He loves his mother and he loves baking, but there has to be something more out there than this. He just knows it. 

“Eric!” Chad’s voice booms throughout his front yard, causing him to flinch in unpleasant surprise. 

“Hi Chad.” Eric sighs as Chad makes his way up to him, intruding on his personal space. 

Chad throws on what he believes is his most charming smile. “Are you doing anything today?” 

“Nope.” 

“Then let’s go on an adventure.” Chad grins, suggestively sliding his hand down Eric’s arm. “For a baker your arms are incredibly buff.”

“Mixing takes a lot of arm power.” Eric defends himself, already kicking himself for interacting with Chad with any attitude beyond dismissive. 

“That’s so hot.” Chad removes his hand and decides to flex his own arm. “I work out too. I’m basically a war hero.”

“That’s great. Well, I have to bake and do girly stuff that threatens masculinity. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

“You know me so well, babe. Alright, see you tomorrow my love.” Then Chad is off, making his rounds and flirting with everything in his path.

There has to be something else out there than this provincial life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll most likely be posting a new chapter pretty soon (probably today or tomorrow lol) who knows


	3. Life Sentence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarification on Kent’s role:  
> So Kent is in the castle like everyone else because when the curse took place, Jack was 16 and they were best friends at the time, so romantic feelings never became canon per se because they were still kind of young. 
> 
> Jack is 21 rn (hence the twenty-first year in the curse) and Bitty is about 18

Of course Eric’s biggest fear had to happen while he was doing laundry. Chad tried to propose again and Eric got him to leave, and just as he was hanging his clothes up to dry, Señor Bun bursts through all his progress, looking frightened. The first thing he noticed was the absence of his mother.

“Wait. Bun, where is she?” His voice was shaking and he nearly laughs at himself because  _wow_ , he was talking to a horse now. “Take me to her.” He rephrases as he hops onto the horse. Bun takes off with terrifying speed, but Eric didn’t care. Señor Bun seemed to be leading him down the darkest path, of course, one covered in snow in  _the middle of June._  That didn’t make any sense. 

It’s a miracle he makes it in one piece, considering the cold air numbing his face and the howl of the wolves. It was daylight, and he expected the wolves to be sleeping, but he saw them eating his mother’s baked goods, all scattered on the ground from her tipped cart. She must have been attacked, which sends another terrifying thought across his brain. What if his mother was dead? 

But Señor Bun took him through an entrance to a castle that looked older than his deceased Moomaw. The winding staircase leading to two large doors screams “Get out” and the ice collecting by the entrance is beyond a safety hazard. In fact, the castle was probably one big death trap, but he sucks in a breath and hops off Senõr Bun to enter the palace. Eric has to get his mother. 

He carefully walks on the ice and the left door creepily opens on its own. It had to be the wind. “Hello?” Eric calls out, and the sound echoes in a painful silence. “I’m looking for my mother.” He tries again, but gets nothing. 

Until he hears a muffled, “His ass is nice.” Then an incredulous, “Brah, shut the  _fuck_  up.”

“Who’s there?” He glances over at a clock and a candelabra that looked weirdly out of place. It seemed odd to have a clock and a candle right by the entrance, right next to each other. He could have  _sworn_  he heard voices. Maybe he was going crazy. 

No answer comes, but he does hear a muffled cough shattering the eery silence. The cough repeats itself, and he recognizes it as his mother’s. 

Eric quickly picks up the candelabra and rushes up the spiral staircase. He follows the echo of his mother’s coughs until he’s stomping up stone steps, nearly out of breath as he makes it to the top. Once he’s got himself together, one step forward is all it takes to see his mother locked up in a prison cell, clothes battered and dirty. 

“Mama!” Eric says with horror, rushing over to the cell she’s in. He falls to his knees as soon as he’s in front of her. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Listen, Dicky,” She says with a tight voice, clearly panicked. “You need to leave.  _Now_. Go back home.”

“Not without you, are you crazy?” Eric says incredulously. Just as he’s about to open his mouth to question her further, maybe if she knows where the keys are, a low growl causes him to freeze. It’s nothing short of terrifying, and Eric swiftly clutches the candle as he slowly rises to his feet. “Who’s there?” 

“Oh dear, honey, please go home.” His mother pleads with him, clutching the bars as if she can rip them off and throw herself in front of her son if need be.

“You really should.” 

It was a low and gravelly voice, something that sent a chill through Eric’s body. A large shadow moves across a higher level of wherever the hell they were. It looked like a creepy dungeon, from what Eric observed.

“Not without my mother.” Eric holds his ground, clutching the candle even tighter. 

“He’s just kidding!” His mother chimes in. “Silly boy. He was just leaving.”

“Mama, stop it.” Eric throws over his shoulder, “You’re coming home with me.”

“Enough.” The voice clips, and the tone of authority causes Eric to snap his mouth shut. The shadow positions itself halfway behind one of the stone arches, so the low lit candle still couldn’t capture who the hell was even talking to Eric. 

Eric swallows, trying to control his hands from shaking. “S-Step into the light.” He stutters.

When the figure slowly steps into Eric’s candle light, the fear of God is struck into him. Some sort of beast is illuminated by the warm glow of the fire. He suppresses his gasp as much as he can, because he doesn’t want the beast to think he’s scared for heaven’s sake. Two long horns, coarse hair, and a tattered outfit that looks slightly out of place on this creature. The one thing that was hard to ignore, however, were his piercing blue eyes. Something is remarkably human about them.

The beast raises his eyebrows, like he’s amused by Eric’s reaction. “You look pale.” He says, probably waiting for Eric to bolt. 

He won’t. Not without his mother. 

“Why did you lock her up?” 

“She intruded into my home then stole from me.” The beast’s eyes are no longer amused, and he looks borderline livid. 

Eric grinds his teeth, finding his courage again after being reminded what’s at stake. “What did she take? Can’t you just take it back and let her go?”

“I picked a flower!” His mother protested. “And it was snowing outside, in the middle of June! I just wanted shelter.” 

Eric tries to muster a glare of his own, but he doubts it will scare the beast in the slightest. “Seriously? That’s extremely petty.” 

A low growl before, “Unless you want to take her place, she stays here. Forever.”

“Forever!?” Eric practically squeaks. “Excuse me…” He doesn’t want to offend the beast anymore than he already  _has_  apparently, so he clears his throat. “...sir. I think that is a bit unfair and extreme.” 

A long pause before, “Did you just call me sir?” He looks momentarily stunned, something hidden in his voice that Eric can’t read. 

“I did, um, please let my mother go. She’s all I have.” Eric mistakenly thinks he’s gotten on the beast’s good side, until the beast swiftly turns around and seems to dismiss him with one single motion. “Hello?” Eric urges him, and the beast stops in his tracks from retreating to wherever the hell he came from.

“I gave you my answer. You’re annoyingly persistent and quite frankly giving me a headache.”

With no other option or rational thought, he spits out. “Fine.” 

The beast is momentarily confused, so he turns around and narrows his eyes with a scary lazar focus. “Fine?” 

“I’ll stay here. Instead of her.” He clarifies, placing the lamp down beside him in a way to symbolize surrender. 

“Dicky, absolutely not.” His mother’s voice is stern and holds no argument. However, for the first time he is going to have to disobey his mother. 

“I’m sorry Mama, I can’t let you stay here.” Eric says simply, walking up to her cell to clutch her hands through the bars. 

“This castle is alive, Eric.” She whispers with a different kind of intensity he’s never seen before. “You are my son and I refuse to let you take my place. I made my bed, so let me lie in it.”

Eric knows she’s never going to willingly give up her spot and let Eric take it, so he lets her hands slip from his and turns to the beast with a new idea. “Can I at least say goodbye?” 

He grunts, not giving Eric a real answer. He tries again, “She’s all I have left, and apparently I’m never going to see her again.  _Surely_ , you can spare a minute of your valuable time.” The last line is a dig filled with passive aggression. 

Still more silence before, “Once this cell closes, I am not opening it again.” The beast says it harshly, holding no argument. He jerks open the cell, and Eric rushes in to wrap his arms around his mother. 

“I love you, honey. I’m so proud of you.” His mother whispers into his ears, and she can feel her tears on his cheek. 

“I love you too, Mama. Which is why, I can’t let you do this.” 

His mother jerks back in surprise before Eric says, “I’ll escape.” He whispers before shoving her out of the cell and closing it behind her.

“Eric!” His mother looks at him in horror. “What have you done?” 

“You’re an idiot.” The beast practically spits the words into Eric’s face.

“She’s my mother.” Eric says with conviction. 

The beast looks down at his mother, his dismissive attitude returning. “Leave. Now.” The beast retreats as soon as she pulls herself up and runs away. He hears a distant, “I’m coming back for you!” That echoes throughout the prison.

“Bye, Mama.” Eric says sadly, quietly, as he sinks to the ground and pulls his knees up against his chest. 

*****

Eric is leaning his back against the cold stone wall when he hears it. 

“ _Psst_. Brah. You good?” 

Eric blinks, a little disoriented and figures he’s hearing things again. His eyes slip closed from exhaustion, but he doesn’t miss the sound of the creaking that comes from his cell door being opened. 

His eyes snap open and he must be hallucinating, because there’s nothing there. How could his cell open? The only thing in the pathway to freedom is the candle he placed on the ground from earlier.

“Hey, pretty boy, wake up.” Another voice prodes on, and Eric blinks rapidly as a clock  _literally_  walks into his cell.

“AHH!” Eric suddenly screams, pressing himself up against the stone wall like he wanted it to swallow him.

“ _Brah_ , I was gonna ease into it.” The candle finally speaks, and Eric suddenly notices his human-like features. “He’s fuckin’ terrified.” 

Eric mutters to himself, “I’m going insane.” 

“Nope. I’m really here.” The small clock looks like it’s smirking. “It’s kinda gloomy up here, we wanted to take you to a nicer room.” 

Eric makes a small noise in the back of his throat, still in awe of the talking objects. Wait… Is this what his mother meant about the castle being alive? 

“O…kay.” Eric finally manages to find his voice, shakily rising to his feet. “Talking objects. Cool. Totally normal.”

“We have names, man.” The candle scoffs, quite offended. “I’m B. Shitty Knight. Just call me Shitty and don’t question it.” 

The clock glances up at Eric, pausing for dramatic effect. “Kent Parson. I used to be hella hot but now I’m bitter because my killer ass curves are gone. I’m frankly insulted.” 

“Right. Okay. Um. I’m Eric Bittle.” He introduces himself, trying to see them as people, because they had human features. They interacted like… They were alive. He’s heard of magic in the sense witches get burned at the stake if accused, but he’s personally never believed in them. 

“Eric Bittle, huh? Nice to meet ya.” The clock  _winks_ ,  _jesus_ , and saunters out of view, towards the steps. 

“We are just gonna show you to your ‘swawesome suite.” The candle-- _Shitty_ , says as they make their way down the stone, spiral steps, then out into the daylight.

“Wait, but, I thought…” Calling him beast seems kind of rude, and he didn’t want to make a candle mad at him in fear he’d get burned, so he decided on, “I thought  _he_  said once that cell door closes, it won’t open again.”

“Psh, my French beaut says things he doesn’t mean  _all the time_.” Shitty waves it off like nothing. “Don’t even fret about it.” 

“He’s super intense sometimes, a bit dramatic I’d say.” Kent adds, struggling to get down the steps. “Fuck, it literally was so easy getting up here.” He turns around and looks up at Eric, as does Shitty. 

“Do you mind, Brah? This would go so much faster if you just carried us.”

 _I’m hallucinating--_  “Sure.” He says weakly, bending down to pick both of them up. “Lead the way.” 

He walks across a bridge, and is momentarily stunned by the sunset. It truly is beautiful from up here, that’s for sure.

“So, basically, this whole palace is at your disposal.” Shitty looks like he’s grinning, gesturing wildly with his two flames for hands. “Except for like, the West Wing. Don’t go there.”

Eric skitters to a halt, glancing to where Kent- the clock- was side eyeing Shitty. 

“What’s in the West Wing?”  _Bodies? Weapons? Snakes?_

“Nothing important.” Kent says quickly. “In fact, uh, we really don’t even  _have_  a West Wing. Don’t know why Shitty said that. Silly guy.”

“Shut up, Parse.” Shitty looks back up at Eric, but since he’s talking to a candle, he can’t tell if he’s lying or not when he says, “Just for storage, my man.”

They make their way into the foyer, which is where the bridge led them from outside. He follows Shitty’s instruction and nearly passes out when he sees dozens of objects moving around like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Eric is led up elaborate steps that come to a stop before he’s met with two pathways. Then he’s enthusiastically geared toward the left and especially not the right.  _The West Wing._

Then they stop at a beautiful door and it opens on its own, of course, why wouldn’t it? He places Shitty and Kent gently on the floor by their request, and admires the room. It was truly gorgeous, with the tapestry and the large window. The bed was intense too, and he expected that to come to life any moment as well. 

“We’ve got a guest!” Shitty cheers happily, and suddenly there’s a loud booming voice, like whoever Shitty just called to woke up.

“DUDE. NO FUCKIN’ WAY.” 

Eric whips around, seeing his dresser sway back and forth in excitement. 

“Oh, uh, hello. Nice to meet you.” Eric offers a kind smile, trying to be polite. He is nothing short of a gentleman. 

“You can just call me Holster. Fashion-fuckin-nista, at your service.”  _-they swear a lot for furniture-_ “Bro, have you met Ransom yet? Love the dude, haven’t seen my best bro in ages, man. It’s like I lost a limb.” 

“I’m sorry... I haven’t met him yet.” Eric frowns, actually feeling bad for an object as he watches it tilt forward in despair.

Then suddenly it straightens again. “It’s okay. Shitty has been our messenger since, like, forever.” Holster sounds incredibly happy again. “SO. I’m gonna spiff you up. Give you a haircut, get you out of those icky clothes… You should take a bath, no offense.”

“I’ll help with the bath.” Kent offers quickly.

“Kent, we are leaving.” Shitty bumps Kent’s… shoulder? Or, what looks to be a shoulder if a clock had shoulders. 

“You’re no fun, Shits.” Kent mutters as he’s ushered out of the room. 

“Bro.” Holster catches Eric’s attention again, excitement evident in his voice. “I’ve got a great idea for your outfit once you get out of the bath. You’re gonna look so hot.”

*****

Jack enters the dining room and the laughter immediately stops. That usually happens around here, whenever he enters a room. He takes his usual seat at the head of the table, placing a napkin on his lap before eating. He’s a cursed prince, not an animal.

Jack needed to have routine to keep himself grounded, because a large beast with anxiety problems scares a lot of his friends. If he they even consider him a friend anymore, sometimes It’s hard to tell. Jack only blames himself for that, though.

It’s because of routine that Jack spots a place setting on the other side of the table. He feels his blood boil as he pushes out of his seat, bellowing  _“Shitty!”_  As Jack storms into the kitchen.

“Jack! My best friend!” Shitty greets happily, too happily, which meant this was in fact his fault.

“Why is there a place at the end of the table?” Jack keeps his voice even.

Before Shitty answers, Kent quickly pipes up. “All his idea. One-hundred percent. I told him it was a bad idea.” 

Shitty shoots him a glare before clearing his throat and saying, “We moved Eric- your guest- to a more comfortable suite, so we thought it would be nice for you two to have dinner together--”

“You moved him into a bedroom? Shits, he is my prisoner! The son of a thief!” 

Then Lardo clears her throat and wobbles in front of Shitty, since she is a teapot without substantial limbs to move freely. “Jack, his mother stole a rose and you punished her for life. Don’t want to be mean because you’re going through something right now, I get that, but like that was still an ass move.”

“You’re projecting your anger again, Zimms.” Kent scolds him. “The least you can do is try to get to know him. You’ll have to deal with him for the rest of his life, so, might as well pave the way for a solid friendship. Maybe fall in love and break this curse. You know, just the little things.”

“Kenny is right, dude.” Lardo chimes in. “And Parse is never right.”

“Hey!” Kent starts to protest, but Jack’s long sigh puts them all into silence. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go and invite him to dinner.”

Jack makes his way toward Eric Bittle’s room while his friends follow behind him. When they get to the door, Jack bangs loudly. It’s enough to startle Eric, because inside he’s examining the window and how far a drop it would be if he tried to climb out. 

“Just a minute!” Eric calls, quickly gathering his make-shift rope made out of the outfits Holster spit out. He shoves the creation under the bed and waits for Jack to knock again.

“Come down for dinner. It’s not a request.” Jack’s voice booms through the other side of the door. 

“Brah.” Shitty winces while Kent sighs loudly in disappointment. 

“Dude, you have to  _finesse_  it.” Kent says. “Don’t sound all grumpy and shit.”

Jack clears his throat, mentally calming himself down before knocking again. “Please join me for dinner.” He sounds monotone, but it’s the best he can manage.

There’s a drawn out silence before, “Are you kidding me?” An incredulous voice sounds from inside the bedroom. “You condemned me to live here for the rest of my life! Because my Mama stole a rose!”

“And broke into my home.” Jack argues back, his voice sounding harsh again.

“I’d rather starve than eat dinner with you.” Eric snaps, causing everyone to flinch. 

“He’s gonna blow, man.” Kent backs behind Shitty, using him as a shield. 

“Fine!” Jack hits the door one last time. “Starve yourself!” He jerks around before glaring down at Shitty. “If he doesn’t eat with me, he doesn’t eat at all. Got it?” 

Jack doesn’t stay long enough for Shitty to answer and storms off in a huff.

Inside the room, Eric falls to the ground and brings his knees up to his chest. The denial finally gone from his body as he glances around the empty room. Unless he can manage to climb out the window and not get himself killed in the process, that would be a miracle. He is truly stuck here until he finishes his rope made out of loose fabric. 

Wonderful.

*********

_Back in the village, in the tavern_

“Chad, it kills me to see you like this.” Chad’s faithful companion, Whisky, says in discomfort as he watches Chad frown and dramatically sigh every five seconds. “Every guy in this place would literally love to fucking be you, man.”

“I know.” Chad sighs dramatically again, throwing his head back against the chair. “He’s so hot though, Whisky. The hottest specimen around, these days. Which makes him the best, and I only associate with the best.”

Whisky stands up and places himself behind Chad, reaching around to massage his shoulders. “Dude, you’re everyone’s favorite guy. He isn’t the only fish in the sea. Any guy or woman would love to marry you.”

Chad sighs, again, throwing up his hands. “I’m so discouraged right now, Whisky. No one has ever turned me down that many times. He’s taking ‘playing hard to get’ to a whole new level.” 

“I know what will cheer you up.” Whisky stops rubbing his shoulders so he can face him. 

“What? Nothing but Eric Bittle’s hand in marriage can cheer me up.” Chad pouts as Whisky clears his throat and settles in front of his friend. 

“I’ll sing a song about how awesome and great you are.”

Chad’s eyes shine with appreciation. “You know just how to make me feel better, ugh, you’re the best Whisky.” 

Just as Whisky opens his mouth to start bursting into song, Suzanne Bittle rushes into the tavern, looking dirty and frightened. 

“Help! A beast has my son!” She cries, grabbing a man twice her size by the front of his shirt, then jerking him down to eye level. “You have to help me get him back.” She demands. 

“Whoa, whoa, lady, chill the fuck out.” The guy she grabbed says, looking scared of the smaller woman that has a hold of him. 

“A beast?” Another woman chimes in as Suzanne lets go of her death hold on the man. “That’s crazy, Suzanne. Too much time in the bakery?”

A chorus of laughter rings throughout the tavern, and Suzanne is basically fuming. “So none of you are going to help me rescue my son?” 

“Oh, poor thing. Losing her husband at such a young age has driven her mad! Don’t  _laugh_  at her.” Another woman says, causing the laughter to die down a little. 

Before Suzanne rolls up her sleeves to pick a fight with the woman who made that comment, Chad takes the golden opportunity to step in between the two. 

“Mrs. Bittle?” Chad tries to flash her one of his charming smiles, but she remains unfazed. “I’ll help you find your son.”

She blinks a few times, stunned. “You will? Do you have a bigger friend with you or…” She looks behind him, searching for someone that is large enough to take on the beast. 

Chad bristles slightly, trying to hide his offense. “No, miss. Just me and my good companion, Whisky. Let’s go catch this beast and get your son back so I can marry him.” 

“What?” Suzanne frowns, studying Chad with scrutiny only a mother can possess. 

“Never mind.” Chad waves her off. “Lead the way, Mrs. Bittle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Okay so some things are based off the live-action movie (get rekt) bc I loved it so freaking much 
> 
> *Chowder is Chip bc of course, but he’s not Lardo’s son and he isn’t ten so I had to switch that up a little lol 
> 
> *ALSO thanks for all your awesome comments they make me very happy


	4. Be Our Fucking Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Think of the whole Be Our Guest scene as a parallel to Bitty’s first kegster
> 
> *Also I took some of the lyrics from the song even if I did change them up 
> 
> *Final disclaimer: Chad is a sexist buffoon
> 
> So far:  
> Lumière: Shitty  
> Cogsworth: Kent  
> The Wardrobe: Holster  
> Maestro: Ransom  
> Mrs. Potts: Lardo  
> Chip: Chowder

 

There’s a knock on Eric’s door, and his head snaps up from tying tighter knots into his rope. “I told you I didn’t want to eat with you.” 

“It’s not grumpy-pants,” An unfamiliar voice says. “May I come in?” 

Eric pushes his creation under the bed before replying, “Sure.” 

The doors swing open, and a tea cart rolls in with only a teapot and a chipped teacup. “Hey there, stranger.” The teapot has more of a prominent face than all the others. “You can call me Lardo.” Her eyes traced over the rope Eric didn’t hide that well, but there was no judgement when she looked over to Eric. “So it’s pretty fucking cold out there, and usually a cup of bomb ass tea helps warm me up. Well, I mean, it literally warms me up, but you get the point.”

Lardo pours a steaming cup of tea into the chipped cup, and suddenly the small teacup jumps off the cart and slides its way over to Eric. He doesn’t want to be rude to the kind gesture, so he bends down and takes a quick sip of tea before pulling it back to wait for an introduction.

Sure enough, the teacup spins around and two small eyes are looking up at him, while the nose is the handle and making the teacup appear more like a human. “Hi! Nice to meet you! I’m Chowder!” 

The enthusiasm causes Eric’s lips to quirk up into a genuine smile. “It’s nice to meet you too, Chowder.” 

“Why don’t you come down for some dinner? He won’t be there, if that’s your worry. He already ate.” Lardo suggests as Eric places Chowder back on the cart next to his friend. 

Eric frowns, remembering what the beast had made quite clear earlier. “I thought if I didn’t eat with him I didn’t eat at all? I don’t want to get y’all in trouble.” 

Lardo snorts, and he can imagine her waving a hand at his comment. “Please, he’s so dramatic. And  _technically_  he told that to Shitty so from the distance I was at I probably didn’t hear him anyway.”

Eric laughs a little as he follows her out of his room. He is a bit hungry, and Eric Bittle will not turn down a polite invitation to dinner, because he still possesses manners, even if those manners are towards objects. 

They enter a beautiful dining room with the biggest and longest table Eric has ever seen.

“Oh wow.” Eric breathes. “This is gorgeous.”

“It's pretty cool.” Lardo agrees. “Not the worst place to be condemned to live in forever.”

A heavy thumping and the sound of a harpsichord begins playing beside Eric, so he spins around to see that the harpsichord is expressing its excitement. “Holster wasn't lying! There is a guest!” 

“That's Ransom. Holster’s other half.” Chowder explains happily. 

“Yeah, we have a real tragic story.” Ransom starts playing a gloomy tune as he speaks. “So my best bro, my other half, is stuck upstairs while I am placed down here. As a fine ass looking harpsichord, I can not climb the stairs. I’ve tried. Holster can’t leave his room because he’s heavy as fuck so it’s almost impossible to move.”

“That’s terrible, I’m sorry.” Eric offers his condolences. “He asked about you though!” 

Ransom stops playing and says, “Really? He asked about me? I fucking miss him. Shitty has been a true bro. Whenever I think of something funny he runs to Holzty to tell him.”

“It’s actually really exhausting.” Shitty says, appearing out of nowhere at the edge of the long table.

A duster sits on Eric’s shoulders, startling him a little bit. “I’m Nursey, and that grumpy coat rack over there is Dex. He mostly communicates in grunts because he’s a bitter old man.”

“First of all.” A new voice jumps into the conversation, and when Eric finds who it belongs to, it’s the coat rack. “I am the same age as you, Nursey. Also, I don’t like wasting my time speaking to you.” 

“You  _love_  me.” Nursey protests. 

“Now that you’ve met the crew,” Lardo interjects their bantering, and as soon as she says, “Pull up a mother fuckin’ chair,” a chair slides up behind him and knocks him backward, but he lands on the soft cushion instead of the ground. He’s placed at the end of the table as the lights dim, then Kent and Shitty approach him. 

“It’s our greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight,” Kent does a little wiggle. “It’s been super boring around here, so the dining room is about to present your bomb ass dinner.”

Several plates find their way on to the table, excitedly spinning around and making their way towards Eric.

Shitty steps backward until he’s placed at the middle of the table, Kent follows him. “Be our guest, Brah. Be our  _fucking_  guest.” Shitty’s small mouth turns up into a smirk as the plates are now presented in front of Eric, the dishes looking elaborate and his stomach growls on instinct.

“You don’t even need to taste test it!” Chowder wobbles beside him. “It’s all delicious! I mean, if you don’t believe me you can ask the dishes.” He laughs at his own joke, and Eric can’t help but smile. 

Kent clears his throat before loudly whispering, “Ransom, play the song. There’s about to be a party in here.” 

A tune begins to fill the large dining room as Shitty steps aside, gesturing towards the dinner china that are all pouring out of a cabinet. “They can sing.” Shitty says, quite proud as a chorus of “Ah’s” that are surprisingly in tune.

“They can dance!” Chowder adds, so when Eric goes to take a bite, he can’t because they are suddenly… Dancing? That’s what he would call it. He can’t help thinking, _what the hell is happening did I try and escape and fall to my death?_

“After all my man, this is France!” Shitty cheers with enthusiasm. 

“ _Is_ this France?” Dex interjects. “Honestly, where are we--” He begins to ask, but Nursey cuts him off before he can finish. “Dinner here is never second best. Unfold your menu, dude. Take a fucking look.”

Suddenly a menu is being thrust into his hands, but he’s a bit confused because there is already food on the table. However, that’s not the most questionable thing happening right now. Considering there are several different categories of house appliances singing and dancing around to a song a talking harpsichord is playing.

“You’re alone and you’re scared, but the banquet’s all prepared!” Chowder spins around, causing the tea inside him to splash onto the table. 

“Guys, maybe we should just tone it down so Jack doesn’t--” Dex tries to say something again, but Nursey for the second time, cuts him off. “Dex, _shut the fuck up_. Stop being gloomy and stop complaining, the flatware is entertaining.”

 _Who’s Jack?_  Is on the tip of Eric’s tongue, but he's further distracted by the show they are putting on.

“We tell jokes!” Chowder jumps, spilling more tea.

“I do tricks with my fellow candlesticks!” Shitty attempts to jump and swing from the chandelier, but he falls over instead and has to have the plate help him get up there.

Eric can’t help but laugh as Shitty spins around on the chandelier. Nursey dusts Eric’s hand, trying to comfort him. “I can see you’re stressed, but I suggest fine dining to chill.”

Suddenly the music turns gloomy as all attention is focused on Kent. “Life is so unnerving.” He sighs dramatically before dropping to the table onto his back. “For a servant who’s not serving. He’s not whole,” Kent roles toward Eric, “without a soul to wait upon.” He drapes his small wooden arm over his face. “The good ol’ days when I was hot and making out with sexy Russians-- Eh, Shitty?”

“Uh, I can’t really relate--” Shitty frowns. 

“Suddenly those good old days are gone.” Kent slowly pushes himself up before slouching himself in front of Eric, not making eye contact. Salt shakers make the salt look like snow, and the music gets more depressing. 

There’s a long silence, so Eric thinks he’s finished, but then “TOO LONG!” Kent suddenly bellows, making Eric jump a little from the surprise. “We’ve been resting.” His voice grows quiet again as he looks up towards the salt shakers. “Needing SO MUCH MORE than dusting!” Kent shakes his head, then finally looks Eric. “Needing sexual interaction and eye-candy--”

Chowder cuts off the rest of Kent’s sentence and breaks the gloomy atmosphere by cheering, “Then you walked in and oops-a-daisy!”

The plates continue to dance around so Eric can't quite eat anything yet, but everyone seems to be having so much fun he can't find the heart to stop them.

“Finally a guest that’s alive!” Lardo grins and her voice triggers several other dance routines to happen at once. “Wine’s all poured so get ‘swasted. It's been such a long time since a rager and we are psyched.”

There's a silence, everyone turning their attention towards Dex. A long, drawn out sigh before he mutters, “With your meal, with your ease.” 

“Yes my bro, we aim to please,” Nursey winks, lying himself across the table in a suggestive position.

A long sigh, then: “Til you shout, ‘I’m done, bro!’” The last part had some personality at least, then Dex retreats behind the chair. 

There’s a flurry of colors, spoons diving into a punch bowl and champagne bottles releasing a bubbly mess, but still looking pretty awesome so the mess was worth it. The song wasn’t organized at all so it was more like they were all partying rather than putting on a show at this point. Nursey was shaking his butt, or at least the duster version of a butt. Kent was using a ladle as a stripper pole, Shitty was chugging the punch and Lardo was shooting sugar cubes out of her spout to land in various cups filled with said punch. Dex was uncomfortable so he just kind of swayed back and forth. 

The song comes to its climax and stops as confetti suddenly showers Eric, getting into the food he still hasn’t had the chance to take a bite of.

“Mic. Fucking.  _Drop_.” Kent says, looking very pleased with himself. 

“That was amazing!” Eric beams, feeling genuinely happy for the first time since he’s gotten here.

“You know,” Shitty avoids the mess on the table, the napkins already cleaning it up. “We need to give you a nickname.”

Eric’s smile falters a little as he asks, “A nickname?” 

“Yeah!” Chowder says. “We all have one.”

Kent crosses his small arms, looking extremely proud of himself. “Mine is ‘I’m available when I’m human again so leave your info unless you’re into the whole clock thing’--”

He’s cut off by Ransom, “Helps keep things interesting around here.” Ransom says, sounding like he’s a little out of breath--if harpsichords can even experience lack of oxygen. 

Shitty hums like he’s using all the brainpower (does he still have a brain? Eric still has so many questions) to come up with a nickname. “Bitty.”

“Bitty.” Eric repeats, trying not to feel the slightest bit insulted.

“Your last name is Bittle.” Kent further explains like Eric doesn’t understand. “Do you get it? Because if not--”

“I get it.” Eric laughs a little before smiling at everyone. “Okay, y’all can call me Bitty.”

“Y’all?” Dex says, confused. “Where are you from? You don’t sound French at all. Does it not concern anyone that we have no idea what part of the world we’re in?”

“Dex, chill. Jesus Christ.” Nursey rolls his eyes, and Dex responds with, “Tell me to ‘chill’ one more time Nursey I swear.”

“What are you gonna do?” Nursey challenges. “Hang my coat?” 

Then the two bicker while Eric finally gets to eat, and he’s surprised that he doesn’t feel as lonely as he thought he would.

*****

“Goodnight, man.” Lardo says as Eric ascends the steps to go back to his room. “You should get some rest. Crazy night!”

“Sleep well, Bitty!” Chowder says as well, then they are out of earshot as they roll back to the kitchen.

Eric pauses at the fork in the hall, glancing over towards the West Wing. Maybe they don’t want him going into the West Wing because there’s a way to escape. 

With a snap decision, Eric checks to see if Lardo and Chowder are gone before running into the hall that leads to the West Wing of the castle. It’s practically falling apart and obviously super dangerous. Is that why no one wanted him here? 

Eric takes it slow as he navigates the pathway. He doesn’t want anything to fall or have anything fall  _on_  him. Eric Richard Bittle will not die in this castle.

It doesn’t take long for him to find a door, just as elaborate as his suite’s door. He lightly pushes it open, because unlike his suite the door doesn’t open on its own. The room he enters is dark, but still illuminated by a warm light from the fireplace. There’s a large bed, one bigger than his own and a fireplace that looks dusty and unused. A brisk wind causes Eric to wrap his arms around himself, and before he glances to see where it could be coming from, his attention is caught by a portrait. 

It’s a portrait of a family; a father, a child in the middle, and the mother on the right. One thing that struck Eric was the striking blue eyes of both the mother and the child in the middle. Those eyes reminded him of something, of  _someone_. They look awfully serious, and the claw marks that ripped part of the beautiful painting don’t go unnoticed. 

“Yikes.” Eric whispers, shivering again as another gust of wind hits the back of his neck. He follows the source, because it might be a door he can use to escape, but he only sees an icy balcony with a view of the front of the palace. 

Something a little more odd is a red rose inside a glass covering. Dead petals scattered the bottom of the encasing, and a few petals still fully intact. 

“What the hell…” As Eric steps onto the balcony, he peers down at the flower to get a closer look. 

He didn’t get a chance to look, because the beast is suddenly beside him and pushing him away. “What did you do to it?” He snarls at Eric before inspecting the rose for any damage.

“I didn’t do anything! I barely even touched it!” Eric defends himself, annoyance bristling his bones from being pushed around. 

“Do you realize what you  _could have done?”_  The beast bellows, turning his attention from the rose and over to Eric. 

“No, actually! Because you don’t tell me anything.”  _\--don’t faint don’t faint--_  “I wasn’t going to steal it if that’s what you were afraid of--”

There’s a deep growl that’s nothing short of terrifying, causing all of Eric’s blood to run cold. The beast approaches him, looms over him like a tower casting a shadow. “Get out!” 

Eric doesn’t move, body suddenly frozen in fear. “What  _is it_  with roses around here--”

“GET OUT!” 

Eric’s fight or flight reflexes kick in as he bolts for the door. He shoves it open and isn’t as careful running out of the West Wing than he was entering it. 

As he bursts out of the West Wing, Nursey and Dex are distracted from their bickering match.

“Where ya going, Bitty?” Nursey asks, but Eric doesn’t stop. 

“I’m getting out of here.” Eric shouts over his shoulder, hurrying down the steps and making a beeline for the door.

Nursey cries in a panic, “Shits! Bitty is making a run for it!” 

Eric swiftly steps around Shitty as he slides in front of him in an attempt to stop him. “My man! Wait! Don’t leave!” 

“I’m  _sorry_. I have to.” Eric says, pushing through the heavy doors. The last thing he hears before it closes is Lardo shouting, “It’s dangerous out there, Bitty!”

Eric whistles, and when Señor Bun appears beside him he hops onto the horse. “Let’s go, Bun.” He shouts over the howling wind, causing the horse to shoot off across the garden of the castle. It doesn’t take long to make it to the gates, and as soon as he feels relief flood him, it instantly disappears when the howling of wolves replaces the howling of the wind.

Señor Bun tries to run faster, so Eric holds on for dear life. The cold wind is biting his face and stinging his hands. To make things even worse, Eric spots a wolf running just as fast alongside them, biting and snapping. There’s more barking and growling, and two more wolves are trailing closely behind Señor Bun.

 _“Wonderful!”_  Eric screams at nothing in particular, well, maybe the wolves. 

Then Señor Bun is running over a frozen pond, slowing them down to the point where one of the wolves makes a jump for Eric. He leaps off the horse and falls onto the ice, causing the wolf to sail over Señor Bun. Wolves surround the horse while snapping and growling, so Eric desperately searches for something to fend them off with. 

He finds a large branch and crawls forward to pick it up. He pushes himself to his feet and takes a few swings before hitting one square in the face. It whimpers, and Eric continues his swinging until one wolf catches a hold of his branch and tears it from his hands.

Eric backs up slowly as four wolves surround, slowly gaining in on him. “Oh Lord.” He mutters before one leaps forward to attack. He squeezes his eyes shut and folds in on himself, but the impact of the wolf never comes. 

He jerks up from his crouched position and watches as the beast throws the wolf into a tree like it weighs nothing. All the wolves seem to leave Señor Bun and Eric alone while they all attack the beast at once. He throws some of them aside, trying to swat the wolves like bees. The beast hits a select few, but there’s only one of him against a whole pack of them. One latches its teeth onto the beast’s shoulder, causing him to yell in pain. He shakes it off, but another just bites his forearm as soon as he fends off two others. Eventually the beast does manage to toss them off of him, while the biggest wolf slowly approaches him. The wolf sticks his ground and lets out a terrifying growl, causing Eric to wrap in on himself. 

_Is this where I die?_

But the beast doesn’t growl back, instead he roars and the noise sends a ringing through Eric’s ears. The wolf whimpers and scurries away, the rest of his injured pack going with him. 

There’s a few seconds of complete silence, until Eric runs over to his horse. The beast turns towards Eric, his blue eyes look a little glassy. It seems like he’s checking to see if Eric has any injures. Then he collapses into the snow, breathing heavily and obviously severely injured.

Eric swallows before turning back to his horse, looking over its back to a small patch of light that leads the way out of this forest. He knows the smart and selfish decision, but as he clutches the reigns of his horse, his heart feels heavy.

“Curse my southern hospitality.” Eric sighs, staring at his freedom for a few more seconds before turning around to face the beast. 

He didn’t bring his coat with him, so he shivers as he plops down beside the beast, who looks up at him with confused eyes.

“You need to help me.” Eric says gently, hesitating before placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna need to stand, hon. I’m strong but I ain’t that strong.”

So Eric kisses his only chance of freedom goodbye as he helps the beast to climb on the back of Señor Bun. The beast tilts forward a little, but hangs on tight so he doesn’t fall. 

“Let’s get you back to the castle.” Eric walks beside the horse, but he can’t feel himself regretting his decision. Somehow, Eric knows he would have felt worse if he just left the beast there to die.

****

_Somewhere, in the woods_

“Are you sure you want to marry into this family? They seem like a lot of work...” Whisky trails off.

“ _Uggggh_ , Whisky, you don’t understand because you’re not in love.” Chad says dramatically while Suzanne Bittle tries to figure out which path she took to get to the castle. The two men were sitting in the carriage while Suzanne struggles to remember. “His historically inaccurate southern accent and smokin’ hot bod really speaks to my soul, you know?” 

Whisky frowns before adding, “It just seems to me, uh, that you’re more in love with his physical appearance than his actually personality? And you’re pining after him because he’s the one thing you can’t have, so you see him more as an object than an actual person.”

Chad straightens his back and blinks while wearing a blank expression. “Are you suggesting I’m objectifying him like I do when I hang up the horns of the various animals I hunt?”

“Yes, actually.” Whisky says with surprise, because he wasn’re sure if Chad would understand.

Chad shakes his head, giving a look of disappointment towards his friend. “Whisky, everyone knows objectifying is for women in this time period. Men are too physically and intellectually superior to be objectified. You’re such an idiot.”

Whisky thinks of Suzanne Bittle and finds that it contradicts Chad’s statement.

Their conversation is cut short when Suzanne Bittle shouts, “I got it! That tree fell so I had no choice but to go down the dark and scary path.”

Chad and Whisky look at each other skeptically. Neither of them believed there was any sort of beast. In fact, they thought Suzanne Bittle was crazy to begin with, or is possibly trying to get Chad away from her son. 

“We should head back.” Chad suggests, jumping out of the carriage along with Whisky. “It’s getting kind of cold.”

Suzanne turns around, placing both hands on her hips. “That’s because there is snow leading up to the castle. We just have to go down this way…” She trails off, already walking toward the dark and terrifying path.

“Snow? In June?” Chad raises an eyebrow, and Whisky only shrugs. Chad remains right next to the carriage with Whisky. 

She sighs heavily, sounding annoyed. “Yes. Now are you going to help me rescue my son or not?” 

Chad clears his throat, putting a hand to his heart. “With all do respect, your story seems like a stretch. So let’s cut the crap, lady. Where’s Eric?” 

Suzanne’s arms drop to her side as she fixes him with a powerful glare. “I already told you. He’s at the castle. Where a beast has imprisoned him.”

Chad grinds his teeth and tries to control his temper. “Is this because I’m going to marry your son? Are you trying to postpone the wedding?” 

Suzanne’s glare turns into a surprised look. “My son? Marry  _you?_  I don’t think so.” 

“Why the hell not?” Chad snaps, and Whisky has to hold Chad’s arm to keep him back. “He’d be lucky to marry me! I’m Chad!” 

She wrinkles her nose in slight disgust. “My boy is much too smart to marry someone like you. If you’re only helping me in hopes I’ll give you my blessing, then you’re right that we should head back. I’ll find someone else more suited to help me rescue my son.” 

“We’re heading back alright.” Chad sneers, climbing back onto the carriage while gesturing for Whisky to take Suzanne’s place on the horse. He scrambles to climb onto the horse, as Chad directs his anger at Suzanne. “Have fun with those wolves you were talking about. I’d send you a wedding invitation to Eric and I’s wedding, but you’ll probably be dead.”

“Wait, what--” Whisky tenses as he fixes Chad with a stunned expression. “We can’t just  _leave_  her here!”

“Then get off the horse and get eaten along with her.” Chad’s eyes grow dangerously dark, and Whisky swallows audibly. 

 _Her story is fake anyway, she couldn’t possibly die out here… right?_  Whisky desperately thinks.

“Hey!” Suzanne makes a run for the carriage, but Whisky is already taking off in the opposite direction. Suzanne chases them until she runs out of breath, but soon she’s surrounded by the pure darkness of the night, with the moonlight the only thing lighting her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Bits helps fix up Jack ;)


	5. Something There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all so------ there's a change in the first chapter! Alexei is actually the food vender Eric buys the eggs from. I changed the dialogue a little bit between them and if ur in the mood u can check it out
> 
> >Also, I know Beauty and the Beast was set in like the 1740s, so the term ‘Russian’ doesn’t exist and I think pies were first created in the 1600s so like, not totally inaccurate. Bitty certainly wouldn’t have a southern accent in 1740 France. But like, artistic license and all that. This is an AU
> 
> > I also put a few twists in here so the story wouldn’t be completely predictable

A loud growl hurts Eric’s ears as he tries to clean the cuts on the beast’s shoulder. “That  _ hurts _ .” He’s sitting on his large bed, not quite leaning on the headboard. It’s hard enough to clean his wounds at this angle without the beast screaming at him every two seconds.

 

“Well if you stayed still, it wouldn’t hurt as much would it?” Eric says, his voice dripping with southern passive aggression.

 

“If you hadn’t have run away, this wouldn’t have happened.” The beast grunts, leaning down towards Eric and his spot on the edge of the bed. 

 

“Well if you didn’t frighten me and tell me to leave, I wouldn’t have run away.” Eric counters. 

 

“You shouldn’t have been in the West Wing in the first place.” The beast argues back, turning this into a bickering match.

 

“Well mister, you should learn how to control your temper.” Eric huffs, dipping his cloth back into the boiling water beside him. He rings it out before hovering over the beast’s forearm. “Now hold still.”

 

Shitty and Lardo hang out at the end of the bed, watching the exchange between the two.

“They sound like Nursey and Dex.” Lardo observes.

 

Shitty quietly whoops in relief. “That’s a good thing, Lards. Nursey and Dex are totally in love. This might just work.”

 

“Don’t forget, Shits.” Lardo sighs sadly. “Jack has to trust him too, not just love him.” 

 

Shitty frowns, looking over at the two. Jack is purposely not looking as Bitty cleans his wounds, because his face is screwed up in pain, which is considered a vulnerability to him. 

“But I mean, if you’re in love with someone, doesn’t trust go hand in hand?” 

 

“Not all the time.” Lardo explains. “Trust isn’t just about avoiding betrayal, Shitty. For example, he loves us but he doesn’t trust we’ll remain friends with him. That’s why he got so upset when Kent left the castle to spend a day with that Russian.”

 

“Okay, I understand all of that... but why can’t we just tell Bitty about the curse? I’m sure he’d be more than willing to help us out.”

 

Lardo shakes her body as a parallel to one shaking their head. “Because then his love and trust wouldn’t be genuine. Come on Shits, it’s like you weren’t even paying attention.” 

 

Shitty sighs dramatically, leaning his ‘elbow’ on Lardo’s top. “You’re so smart, Lardo. What would we do without you?” 

 

There’s another soft grunt from the beast before Eric pulls the bloody cloth away. He wraps the beast’s shoulder then wraps his forearm. “All done.” 

 

“Thanks.” The beast mutters, sliding down the bed and making his back face towards Eric. 

 

“No problem Mister....” Eric trails off, realizing that he doesn’t know the beast’s name. “Oh my! I’m so rude. My mother would just  _ kill _ me.”

 

The beast cranes his neck to make eye contact with Eric. “Excuse me?” 

 

“What’s your name? I never caught your name.” Eric’s cheeks blush slightly from embarrassment. “I mean, given that I’ve been runnin’ around nonstop since I got here would explain why I don’t know your name--”

 

“Jack. My name is Jack Zimmermann.” The beast cuts off his rambling, but he can’t help but feel oddly touched that this man saw him as something humane, rather than the monster he looked like. 

 

“So  _ you’re _ Jack!” Eric smiles brightly, and it feels like the first time Jack actually  _ sees _ Eric Bittle. “It’s nice to know your name. I felt kind of rude referring to you as ‘the beast’ all the time.” 

 

Eric was like the embodiment of sunshine, Jack realizes, which suddenly became too much for him to handle. Jack turns his head back towards the far wall to avoid looking at him. 

 

“Get some rest, Bittle.” Jack says, his voice sounding the most sincere than it has ever has with Eric. “It’s been a long day.” 

 

“I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow morning.” Eric says it like it’s another simple errand he has to complete for the day, not like he’s taking care of his imprisoner. 

 

****

Eric did check on Jack in the morning, and then he would pop his head in for a second, and third time that day. Jack wasn’t aware how severe his wounds were, but apparently he lost a lot of blood so Eric would bring up his drinks and meals, then leave only when he was finished with them to keep him company.

 

Jack asked him, on the second day, “Why are you being so kind to me?”

 

Eric had frowned a little as he considered Jack’s question. “Being mean to you is pointless and would make my time here harder. You don't deserve to be treated with hatred, Jack. Even if you did imprison my mother for stealing a rose…”

 

And the truth was, after Jack had saved him, Eric realized there was good in him. He thought of Jack’s situation, and how people in his town would treat a beast. Eric figures there must be some sort of curse on this place, there's no other explanation for the dancing and talking objects. He puts himself in Jack’s position, and  _ yikes _ , whatever is going on here has to suck.

 

Eric also believes, ever since the wolf incident, that Jack won't keep him here forever. Treating Jack like Eric would normally treat a person isn't hard, and it might be what Jack needs--considering all his friends are talking objects.

 

On the third day, Eric sits in a chair beside the bed and rattles off a recipe for pie, because Jack briefly mentioned he missed the pies his mother would make. 

 

“Are you talking about apple pie?” Jack asks as Eric takes his plate of breakfast away. 

 

“Yeah!” Eric was full of energy, but then again, he always seemed to be to Jack. “I mean, the apple part of the recipe gave it away so I won’t give you too much credit Mr. Zimmermann.”

 

If a blush could show up on Jack’s face, it probably would in that moment.  _ Mr. Zimmermann. _ That’s a new one. “Is that the only one you know how to make?”

 

Apparently, that was the  _ wrong _ question. Eric looks offended as he puts his hand on his heart. “Jack, I can make any pie I so well please, thank you very much.”

 

Jack thinks of the castle’s large kitchen, and how Eric would probably fall in love with it. He  _ is _ feeling better today, so maybe-- “May I show you something?” 

 

Eric pauses, his lips quirking up in a small smile. “If you're feelin’ up to it.”

 

Jack and Eric walk beside each other for the first time since he brought Jack back to the castle. They don't walk in silence, and Jack figures it’s because it is physically impossible for Eric to stay quiet for too long. The fact Eric feels comfortable speaking to him like this feels good, though. He hasn't felt ‘good’ in a long time.

 

They walk into the dining room so Jack could take the shortcut to the kitchen. They stop at the door, and Jack looks down at Eric to say, “Close your eyes.”

 

Eric raises an eyebrow, glancing between the closed door and Jack. “Can I trust you?”

 

Eric doesn’t realize this, but it is a very loaded question. If Jack tells him yes, will one step to breaking the curse be checked off? What if Jack just learns to trust Eric, and Eric learns to trust him? That should be enough. Surely he doesn’t have to find something as fragile as  _ love _ . Jack is pretty sure that day will never come for him, so maybe trust is enough. It won’t be easy, but Jack will try. He has to. 

 

“Yes.” Jack answers confidently, and Eric just shrugs. 

 

“Alright.” He places a hand over his eyes. “Lead the way.” 

 

_ How does he do it so easily?  _ Jack thinks.

 

Jack opens the door and nudges Eric’s back gently. He stumbles forward a bit before striding into the kitchen. Jack quickly stops him by gently touching his arm, so Eric doesn’t run into anything and get hurt. “You can open your eyes.”

 

Eric removes his hand and immediately yelps. Jack panics, thinking there’s something wrong, but when Eric turns around to face him his fears disappear. He looks so excited and astonished that it’s a little much to handle. Jack doesn’t think he’s ever made someone feel like this before besides his parents.

 

“Oh my  _ goodness _ . This place is huge!” Eric runs over to the stove, which tips its head in greeting. “Oh wow! The  _ stove _ even has a personality.” He makes his way around the kitchen, gushing about everything and saying hello to the appliances that are alive. 

 

Jack clears his throat, feeling oddly nervous. “The kitchen is yours, if you want it.”

 

“I can’t take over your kitchen, Mr. Zimmermann.” Eric finally looks back at him, light shining in brown his eyes. 

 

Jack laughs a little, because giving Eric the kitchen is a small gesture compared to what Jack has done to him. Eric is his only hope to possibly break this curse and save his friends, so he most certainly couldn’t let him go. “It’s not a big deal, Eric. I’d like to try one of your pies. You keep going on about them, so I’ll test to see if they are actually any good. For all I know, they could actually be terrible--”

 

_ “Jack Zimmermann don’t blaspheme _ .” Eric says incredulous, but there’s something playful in his eyes that tell Jack he isn’t truly angry with him.

 

Jack leaves Eric alone in the kitchen and as soon as he walks out, all of his friends are waiting for him on the dinner table. 

 

“What?” Jack asks after a long one minute of staring.

 

Lardo is the first to speak up. “You just did something nice for him. On your own. Without us telling you to.” 

 

They all nod in unison, and Jack glances back at the closed door of the kitchen. “I guess? I don’t use the kitchen anyway so it’s not a big deal.”

 

_ “Tsk, tsk _ , Zimms.” Kent shakes his head. “Trying to downplay your romantic gesture? I don’t think so. Keep up the good work.”

 

Jack can’t help but sigh. He says, “You guys are ridiculous.” before barreling out of the dining room and stomping up the stairs to get to his own room and think about his actions. Did he really just do something romantic? 

 

****

 

Eric is confused but oddly touched that Jack just gave him his entire kitchen. He isn’t sure how, but there’s all the supplies one could need to bake absolutely anything. How do they even have food here? Does someone deliver it? Eric still has a lot of unanswered questions, but he won’t ruin this gift with them.

 

Once Jack is healed three days later, Shitty brings Jack to the dining room in the morning on Eric’s request. 

 

“Shitty, why am I here?” Eric heard Jack ask right outside the door. 

 

“You’ll see, my dude.” Is Shitty’s simple response. 

 

Eric emerges from the kitchen with a maple crusted apple pie in his hands. He places it in front of Jack, who simply gives Eric a tired look. “Is this what this whole commotion is about? Shitty made me think you prepared a meal.”

 

Eric narrows his eyes at Jack before taking a seat right next to him with no hesitation. “Don’t be rude. Eat my pie.” 

 

Two simple commands and Jack was inclined to follow them. Jack hasn’t used a fork in a couple years, so he sheepishly and literally digs in. Eric doesn’t seem to care though, because his eyes are focused on Jack’s expression. 

 

And Jack probably should have been more embarrassed, because the noise he makes barely resembles anything human, and Jack usually hates it when his humane features are compromised. Right now though, he doesn’t care. That pie is the best thing he’s tasted in such a long time. 

 

“ _ Ha _ .” Eric points an accusing finger at him. “And you wanted to see if  _ they were any good.  _ Serves you right, Zimmermann!” Eric laughs as Jack continues to eat an entire pie. 

 

“Well done, Bittle.” Is all Jack says, a small smile on his face. “I don’t understand why you’re so excited though, it’s just a pie.” Jack knew he’d get an infuriated reaction out of him. 

 

“Jack, how  _ dare _ you. I will have you know--” And Eric launches into on how he’s won multiple contests for his pies and that they are so good he often uses them for payment. Jack is hanging on to every word, because he loves the way they sound. His voice is interesting and his personality is alive. 

 

Shitty watches the two of them, and for the first time in a long time, he has real hope.

 

Eric and Jack have no trouble spending time with each other. Jack suddenly realizes he craves his company, while Eric enjoys spending time with him. Eric also loves finding new traits in Jack that no one could have ever learned about if they didn’t spend time with him.

 

Jack Zimmermann is sweet and kind, and he seems to care a lot about his friends. He also has a fun side to him, which is one of the most surprising things about him. Jack started a snowball fight that spiraled into a war with Jack and Eric against the rest of the castle. In the end, Eric and Jack both lost, but it was the most fun Eric has had in such a long time. 

 

These feelings Eric Bittle had towards Jack morphed into something else. Something that not only Jack, but the entire castle was not aware of. 

 

As Eric was showing Jack how to create a perfect lattice, that’s when that  _ something _ came. Eric helped Jack create a pie with his large paws and even though it didn’t turn out perfect, nothing tore and they didn’t need to start over. Jack’s focus and determination for something as small as baking a pie was inspiring. 

 

Eric looked over at Jack, who was staring down at the final product of a simple apple pie with pride, and when he focused that same gaze on Eric, it didn’t waver. Then that  _ something _ hit him out of nowhere, and Eric Bittle realized that  _ something _ is love. He is in love with the beast. Eric also realized that even if he is set free, he probably wouldn’t want to leave Jack’s side anyway. 

 

Now the only thing left to break the curse is for Jack to love and trust Eric Bittle in return.

 

_ For who could ever learn to love a beast--  _ is still Jack’s biggest concern, because he hasn’t come to the realization that the “who” isn’t the problem.

 

The real obstacle is:  _ for whom could the beast ever learn love? _

 

***

_Back in the village, in the tavern_  

 

“I can’t believe you got us lost, Whisky.” Chad hisses, throwing open the door to the tavern. “My hair is ruined from all this rain.” 

 

Whisky takes a deep breath to calm himself, because he knows for a fact he is not the reason they got lost. Chad wanted to take a turn driving the carriage because he was bored, and they ended up getting lost. He doesn’t say any of this, though. If he did, Chad would just spin it so it still looked like Whisky’s fault anyway. 

 

The moment they stepped into the warm atmosphere of the tavern (that Chad seems to live in because he’s found nowhere else), they see Suzanne Bittle sitting in Chad’s chair. The two freeze as the heads of the civilians turn towards Chad and Whisky in an accusatory manner.

 

“Did you try to kill Suzanne, Chad?” Alexei asks, face dark with an expression Whisky never saw the Russian wear before. 

 

“What?” Chad pretends to sound offended. “I would never! She fell out of the carriage when we made a sharp turn. We were running from wolves--” The faces of some townspeople morphed into the wrong understanding, and they went back to looking at Chad like the God he thought he was. “Suzanne! I’m so glad you’re alright.” Chad walks over to hug her, but she jerks away from him. 

 

“Bullshit, Chad!” Suzanne yells. “You ran off and left me in hopes I’d get eaten by wolves. If it weren’t for Johnson the town cryptic, I would be dead right now!”

 

Chad winces, shaking his head in confusion. “Suzanne, I think you need to calm down. You’re talking gibberish! This isn’t the first time you’ve shown signs of being delusional.” 

 

“I’m not delusional.” She snaps. “There is a beast out there that has my son, and you only offered to help me find it so you could marry Eric. Then you got mad when I denied you my blessing and drove off without me.”

 

Chad snorts to try and look relaxed, but Whisky sees the glint of fear in his eyes as he says, “That’s such an outlandish idea that I won’t evendignify it with a response.”

 

Suzanne Bittle’s eyes narrow before she gives up on Chad and focuses her attention on Whisky. “You were with us.  _ You _ tell them what happened.”

 

Whisky feels terror strike in him as he glances quickly at Chad. He knows that if he tells the truth, he will go down with Suzanne Bittle. Chad is held on too high of a pedestal for him to be taken down. Whisky had to make the decision that best protected himself.

 

“Chad would never try and kill Suzanne. He’s in love with her son.” Whisky didn’t enjoy watching the look on Suzanne’s face. 

  
Chad shakes his head, faking concern for a woman he tried to kill. “I think you need help, Suzanne. Don’t worry, I know just the place that will provide you with the care you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: the iconic dance 
> 
> P.S. Thanks for all your comments they made me really happy


End file.
